Angel's Wings
by Ritaann
Summary: Was it just fate or just dumb luck that will bring what was separated apart, a Deb John and Michael story…


***Angel's Wings***  
  
Title: Angel's Wings  
Author: Ritaann  
Summary: Was it just fate or just dumb luck that will bring what was separated apart, a Deb John and Michael story…  
Spoilers: None- but remember this: this fanfic has almost nothing to do with season eight unless specified.   
Category: Deb and Carter romance  
Archive: sure! Everywhere and anywhere, just tell me first so I can have a look at my own stuff.   
Disclaimer: Deb, John, Michael, James, Linda and most of the other characters are absolutely not mine and belong to Michael C. and his associates. The drunk driver, the grandmother and grandfather belong to me and my associates (no, I don't have any ;) No money is being made from this story, it is pure fiction. If the storyline somehow coincides with another, it is coincidental and I am very sorry- but it isn't my fault!  
Author's notes:  
  
~*~*~*~   
  
"I feel so bad, leaving him like that," said Linda with a sigh. She turned towards the window of the car and stared absentmindedly into the lightly falling snow, watching as the wind played with the white puffs. "It's going to be his first night without us."   
  
James peeked at his wife and shook his head slightly in amusement. "He's going to be fine with your parents. We've given them contact numbers, Michael's got plenty of supplies, he's warm, comfortable and one thing's for sure, your Mum and Dad are going to spoil him rotten." he said with a chuckle.   
  
Linda smiled slightly, "Yeah I know. I'm just being paranoid."   
  
"We're going to have a fabulous time, you know. We haven't taken a holiday in such a long time," he proclaimed while glancing at his wife.   
  
"I'll say. Last time we went anywhere was for our honeymoon," Linda said pensively, a small smile twitching at the corners of her lips.   
  
James too had a smile on his face. Ever since Michael had arrived home he had quite a few problems. The baby formula, nappy rash, indigestion- you name it, it's happened. Thing's had been tight for a while but Linda didn't seem to mind. She had her baby, her little boy and that was one of the essential things on her list that she had always wanted but couldn't have. Michael had made her happy. Very happy. And when she was happy, James thought to himself, then so am I.   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Shit!" the man swore, "I shoulda have seen 'at one comin'!"   
  
Radio blaring, windows down, in his beat up old ford that he bought at last Sundays auction, John Barritone swerved left, then right, then left again, narrowly missing a late night passenger on his bike. Long blond hair waving madly as he stuck his head out the window and swore again.   
  
"Bloody hell! What do ya think ya doin' at this time of night eh? Getin' ya self killed?!?"   
  
He swung Jack Daniels in the air, stealing a gigantic gulp of the heavy alcohol that sloshed inside, burning its way down his throat as he took a turn at a corner a little too fast.   
  
"Wife and kids begging at my door for money," he chuckled, "What do they think I am? Made of gold?" and with that he threw his head back once more and began to laugh. A beer belly chuckle reaching all the way up to his stoned, crystal blue eyes that told a story of great pressure and sadness. "What the hell…" John said shaking his head from side to side, not really paying attention to what was happening on the road. Sticking his head out of the window, he enjoyed the rush of cool air and the whistling noise it made as it blew past his ears.   
  
"I am made of monEEEYYYY…"   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"What do you think we should do first?" Linda asked softly, looking down towards her hands which were folded neatly on her lap.   
  
"Hummm?"   
  
"What should we do first, you know, when we arrive there…?" she repeated, this time turning to face James.   
  
"Well, its getting pretty late…" he answered while glancing at the already darkened sky, "Maybe a soak in one of the huge tubs this place is famous for?"  
  
"Sounds good…" replied Linda dreamily, a lazy grin spreading where a frown had once been, "Sounds like you have a-"  
  
And then suddenly, all the joyous plans and anxiousness about their son was thrown out the window and into the frosty night. Life, as they once knew it hung in the balance as a swerving Ford raced towards them with no regard for their existence on this planet whatsoever.   
  
The road was narrow.   
  
Not exactly wide enough for the two cars that were on that particular part of this road on a night like tonight. Linda, totally forgetting the last thought she had almost voiced gripped the door handle in preparation for what she knew to be inevitable. James tried his best to carefully manoeuvre their white hatchback around the Ford, but at the last second, the Ford lost its grip on the icy road and spun out of control…  
  
…to slam into the side of their small, white hatchback that once held two very excited people and a baby's car seat at the back.  
  
  
Linda opened her eyes. Her vision was clouded by a mass of dripping red blood. Trying to wiggle her fingers and toes she found herself to be stuck, trapped in her passenger seat. Managing to turn her head to the side, she caught a glimpse of James, he too was trapped. Broken pieces of glass sprinkled over his body like the shiny pieces of decoration that would cover a birthday cake. Blood glistened in the moonlight and the ever growing need to escape from the cold with sleep was fast approaching her.   
  
"James…" she called weakly, straining her neck to look once more at her unconscious husband. Knowing inside herself, somewhere deep and dark, that she would probably not make it past this moment, she once again coated her lips in a thin layer of saliva and tried her best to make do with whatever she had left of her life.   
  
"I love you… I know that I haven't been saying it much lately, but I do. I just want you to know that I shall always love you… and if you make it out to be okay… tell Michael… that his Mummy loves him…"   
  
~*~*~*~   
  
"Oh my God…"   
  
"I'll say. I can't believe they were out here so long," he whispered sadly, shaking his head lightly at the injustice.   
  
Both cars had been covered by a thin layer of snow. The sun was just beginning to seep over the horizon, lighting up the snow with its yellow rays of warmth. It had been their first call out that morning. A man in his ca had finally spotted the battered up cars that had been smashed beyond repair.   
  
"What a way to start a shift."   
  
"I'll say. Hey, Eddie- where is the driver of the Ford?"   
  
"I think he's gone AWOL," he replied. Reaching into the smashed window of the car that had once belonged to James and Linda, Eddie placed his fingers on the side of her neck, pressing against skin that had been soaked with blood. "And the woman in the car he hit, well, she's already gone."  
  
"What about the driver?"   
  
"The man?"   
  
"Uhuh."   
  
"Well… it looks like he's dead too…"   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
In a warm cosy room, log fire blazing, shadows leaping in an estranged dance, a little boy and his Grandfather played quietly with a few trains, a plastic track and a station controller. Fresh snow fell lightly on ground already soaked with rain. In the room a joining, Grandma washed the dishes, carefully wiping and rinsing away the remains of dinner, a happy smile on her face as she turned for a moment to watch the activities that were taking place on the lounge room floor.   
  
"Can you make the sound of a train, Michael, huh? What does a train sound like?"  
  
Michael looked up, a grin on his face, "Chooooo…"  
  
"Yes, that's right little one! You're a clever little boy aren't you?"  
  
Michael grinned again, this time a bit of saliva began to dribble down his chin and within seconds, his bottom lip began to tremble and the salt water in his eyes teetered on the edge, waiting for the right moment to descending, cascading down his soft, white, baby cheeks. His arms reached upwards and away from his truck loads of cargo, reaching up for some comfort, for a hug to take away all the boo-boos.   
"What's wrong little one, what's making you cry big fat baby tears?" he whispered soothingly, encouraging Michael to stop bawling and instead to smile. Tucking his hand under Michael's bottom, he felt for a wet nappy. Nope, all dry. Just to make sure, he undid the strap that held the nappy together and took a peek. No, he had been right; there was nothing there but a clean baby's bottom. He had been fed, bathed and it wasn't cold and neither was he too warm.  
  
I guess he just want's a hug, thought the older man to himself. Even I myself need a hug myself, sometimes.   
  
"Dan?" called a voice from the kitchen, wearily tired but eerily calm and collected, not a drop of emotion slipping past the words that had been carefully put together, "There's been… there's been an accident…"  
  
~*~*~*~   
  
"You know John, it's been a while since we've done this… I really miss it," said Deb slowly as she took another sip of the red wine in her glass.  
  
John nodded, voicing his reply enthusiastically, "We should do this more often. Wine, Chinese food and good company is all a guy would ever want on a Friday night."  
  
"You mean good guys like you," corrected Deb.   
  
"Well… you know there are, other things that would… you know be good to have once in a while…"   
  
"But you take what you get?"   
  
"Exactly!"   
  
They sat around her coffee table, an old tape running of… whatever it was running in the VCR. They hadn't taken the time to rent something good and even if they did, they never payed attention to what was happening on the screen, usually opting to talk about things they couldn't really discuss at work. He glanced at the screen; saw a girl running through a forest in some horror film. He turned back to Deb.   
  
"So… what have you been doing outside work recently besides sleep?"   
  
"How did you know that would have been my answer?!?" Deb asked, punching him playfully on the shoulder.   
  
"Because that's what always your answer every time I ask that question," explained Carter indignantly. "When are you going stop jerking me around and answer my question properly?"   
  
"What answer do you want?" asked Deb, this time seriously considering what John thought she did in he off hours.  
  
"I don't know… you can't sleep every second your not in the E.R."  
  
"I try too!"   
  
"Well- then what you need to do is get a life- more so than I do,"   
  
"The nurses hounding you again?"  
  
"Uh huh…"   
  
"John, what do you when are you are not at work? Like on a Sunday off,"   
  
"I sleep…"   
  
"Now that's the kettle calling the pot black!?!"  
  
Their playful banter was interrupted by the beeping sound of a pager, the small black box cutting a conversation that they hadn't had in a long time.   
  
"Your's or mine?" asked Carter, ready to look through his pockets once it was decided that the pager was his.  
  
"No- it's mine," Deb was searching through her handbag, practically emptying out the entire thing onto the floor, following the beep as best she could.   
  
"Talk about being a workaholic," said Carter, shaking his head in mock disbelief.   
  
"Oww!" Deb had punched him again, this time harder causing him to rub his arm in an attempt to take away the pain. "Was it the E.R?"   
  
"No…" Deb said, her forehead furrowed, "I don't know this number, but there is a 911 in front of it," All playful banter was forgotten as Carter watched Deb dial and then listen to who was on the other end.   
  
"Yes, this is Jing-Mei Chen…"   
  
John turned away from the conversation, afraid of invading her privacy. From the expression the all was serious. Instead, he busied himself with the task of checking out the latest medical journal that was stacked by her couch.   
  
"Oh my God… yes I'll be there as soon as I can," despite his efforts to keep away from what was being said on the phone, her last sentence was not hard to over hear. He watched as she scribbled a few words onto a piece of paper and then, as though the person at the other end of the line would understand, Deb nodded her head and placed the phone down gently.   
  
"I don't know what I'm going to do…"   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Sheila put the phone down, tears threatening to spill over her aged eye lids for the hundredth time that evening. Michael's cries kept everyone occupied; a wail in the night that just didn't seem to stop. He wanted his Mummy and he wouldn't stop until she came to get him.   
  
Problem was, she never would. She couldn't- not that Linda didn't want to.   
  
Death had stolen her need to go to her little angel, her baby boy and comfort his tears with hushed words. But not only had death taken away his Mummy, it had also snatched away Michael's father, his buddy. All he had left now was his grandma, grandpa and of course, his biological mother who lived thousands of miles away in a place called Chicago.   
  
Things couldn't be any worse. Shelia thought to herself as she watched her husband try his best to sooth the little boy's tears.   
  
She didn't want to believe it. Nope, her daughter would be back, her baby. The doctor had assured them, her and her husband Rob in sympathetic but certain terms that her daughter and her husband had died earlier last night and there was really nothing they could do to bring her back.   
  
It wasn't until they saw the bodies, blood cleaned away,cuts left on once clear skin, eyes closed, shut tight against the cold, harsh sir of the morgue. It was plain that no medicine had been practiced on both bodies. No tubes, wires or bandages had been needed. The doctor had explained that when they had been found, they had already been dead for a few hours, body cooled by the falling snow.   
  
After it had finally hit them, after they had fed their souls want for a truthful answer, their need to prove that Linda and James were one hundred percent dead, no doubts about whether it could be just be all a bad dream, Sheila had remembered her daughters will, and the statement that she had shown to her mother.   
  
'In case James or Linda Shepard are no longer able to take care of their son, Michael Shepard, his biological mother, Jing-Mei Chen should be notified and therefore be the individual responsible for his care. If she should decide not to care for Michael personally, we would encourage her to give the child to his Grandparents, Sheila and Rob Yen.'  
  
It had been something that she had seen as being responsible and mature. Totally logical and exactly what she would have wanted if she had been in that position years ago. However, despite the monthly letters sent to Linda and James had not convinced her of how responsible Michael's birth mother really was. Sure she was a doctor, but not all doctors were responsible, right? Some were even on drugs. That last thought had made her spine tingle and her body shiver with the idea that this 'Jing-Mei' woman who was now responsible for her grandson could be unfit for her daughters little boy.   
  
Then there was the reason why she had given up her baby boy in the first place. Linda told her that it had to do with the lifestyle her job demanded, but hadn't really asked more about the subject. Linda had told her that Jing-Mei didn't look like she wanted to tell her and hadn't wanted to ask too many personal questions. Despite the will, Rob had wanted to override his daughter's wishes and they being the next of kin, they could. Sheila had quickly put him in his place and convinced him to respect Linda and James's wishes.   
  
"It was for the best," she had whispered to herself. "This is what they would have wanted," and with that, Sheila picked up the phone and dialled the long distance phone number on the phone provided for those who were left to pic up the pieces at the waiting Lounge.   
  
She watched as Michael whimpered in his grandfathers arms and once again reminded herself of the reason why she was potentially giving away her little grandchild. The phone rang. Once… twice she froze, hand paused over the phone ready to pick up and answer.   
  
"Should I?" she questioned herself and then before she could change her mind, her hand snatched up the phone and held it pressed tightly to her ear.   
  
"Hello, is this a Jing-Mei Chen?"   
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Deb?" questioned Carter, the curiosity inside him wielding its fork ready to jab at any moment, "What's happening- what's wrong?"  
  
"I… you remember Linda and James, they adopted Michael…?" at John's nod confirming her question, "They've been in a car accident- and they, they didn't make it." Deb said tearfully, almost whispering the last few words.   
  
~*~*~*~ 


End file.
